The Marines are Berthed in the belly of the starship, and essential for attack and defense, whether it be on the gorund, or inside the ships during boarding actions. Fighter pilots and ships may win battles, but Marines will win the War.

"You got it, boss," said Asher, tugging off his helmet, before pointing down into the polarized bucket. "Can you believe that? Sippin' brain-water while we're foot-sloggin' in tha' dark. What do I gotta' kill t'get dat kinda' job every now an'then, yeah? I mean," The Surandanian tossed a finger in Card's direction, "Besides abusin' people f'my own sadistic satys-factions, yeah?"

The squad leader turned about, and began circling his finger around the pad. Then, one at a time, he began to punch in the code. "Lessee... See... Seven... Six... Twenty... Two..."

Once the pad took that, he leaned it, and opened his eye wide for the retina scan, struggling a moment to keep it open in the sudden light. With that, he slapped his helmet back on his head. "Awright, Lieutenant Foreskin, I went an' punched it in."

â€œIâ€™m pretty sure the only thing ya need ta kill ta get a desk job is some basic comprehension exams,â€ Dom quipped as he remained nonchalant while the others fussed over one thing or another. â€œThe other option would be getting severely wounded or suffer some traumatic event, but I doubt those excuses would work with you.â€

Pleased with his humor and chuckling lightly under his breath, the engineer stretched and cracked his joints as he enjoyed what relaxation he could before the fighting started.